


Two Nights

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far, they’d been allowed two nights. Two nights of bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, not really smut. Does not exist inside my Sister Mine universe.
> 
> Sherlock Song:
> 
> Topeka by Ludo
> 
>  
> 
> Molly Song:
> 
> Mixtape by Lex Croucher

So far, they’d been allowed two nights. Two nights of bliss.

The first night had been two days after The Fall.

She come in from work, exhausted and scared and tired and the most beautiful thing he’d seen that day, carrying a box of liver in one hand and a carton of milk in the other. 

He’d cried, that day. 

 

The night after he’d died was full of black cars and paper work and arrangements. He hadn’t had time to think. The day after that, he’d slept 15 hours straight only to wake up and drink as much tea as Molly put in front of him, and tried not to look her in the eye.

The next day she’d left, telling him to read any of her books and watch as much TV as he wanted, and when the door closed, (softly, like Molly herself.) he’d broken out into quiet sobs, (pathetic sobs, no one should cry that way. When you cry people are supposed to hear you.)

He’d cried himself out and showered and took enough aspirin to take down an elephant, and then sat, watching the zoology channel until Molly sat down beside, tucked a stray curl away from his forehead, and kissed him, very, very gently on the lips.

He’d wanted to pull back and hit out and melt into her, all at once, but he found himself welcoming her tongue when it parted his lips open, and then, later, found himself welcoming her hands on his body, and the way she sighed when you touched the right places.

He’d found himself wanting more, in the morning, but that was the day he left a bright pink post-it note stuck to her headboard, apologizing for taking advantage, again, and saying thank you again, and goodbye, possibly for the last time.

 

The second time had been the night before his exile. 

He’d meant to go to John and Mary, to ask for scan photo’s and baby names and nursery colours, but he found himself looking at Molly Hooper’s dark-blue front door, instead, and asking for kind words and cups of tea.

 

They both knew what was going to happen the moment he stepped through the threshold. They did.

But, still, it took four cups of tea and a conversation about pathological dissection to get him to take her face in his hands and kiss her. 

He hadn’t enjoyed kissing Janine. He hadn’t liked the power it had given her, especially when she’d stuck her tongue down his throat. That was not at all enjoyable.

Molly was different. Or course she was.

Molly led with gentle encouragements and clever hands, ready expectations when he pulled away half way through because he needed moments to breath.

Molly Hooper was there when nightmares took him, was there to feel every labored breath of a panic attack, was prepared to bring him water and kindness and the smell of something he recognized from childhood, (he realized, after visiting his home again [with his Molly, this time] that it was the smell of buttercups and vanilla- buttercups because of the fields outside and vanilla because of constant cake-baking). 

And Molly Hooper was there again, when he’d rushed through morgue doors, hoping and praying for one more night, and she was there when he’d whimpered and collapsed, and she was there when breathing became hard again as the sound of a door banging sounded too much like a gunshot.

He mentioned those two nights in his vows (he’d said them outside a court house [they’d had, as a surprising turn of events, Irene Adler as their witness], and hadn’t gone into detail, but she smiled anyway). 

Yes, he thought, two nights of bliss. And many more after that.


End file.
